Thirty Days
by Banana Tooth
Summary: I stare at the door for a moment, my heart beating faster, because I’m almost certain who’s on the other side, and I haven’t even figured out what to say. MacStella.


**Title: **Thirty Days

**Author:** Banana Tooth

**Rating:** K+

**Classification:** Mac/Stella

**Disclaimer:** I am in no way connected with CBS, the CSI Franchise, or its writers, producers, or directors.

**Warning:** Sap alert! I do love me some sap.

**Author's Note: **This is how I think the show should end—after many more seasons, of course! And only if we can't get some Smacky satisfaction in the meantime.

* * *

I pay the cab fare and realize that I have no memory of the ride home. It seems like I've been in a daze ever since I first got the offer. There's no telling what I've done at work lately—but it must not have been too bad, or someone would have let me know. And now I've spent the whole way home staring out the window, seeing nothing, going around and around in my mind. 

The job offer is fantastic, a wonderful opportunity. I would be an idiot to turn it down. I want it, more than I'll admit even to myself.

And just as I'm about to convince myself to take it, I always come back to another thought: _I'd be an idiot to leave the lab_. I love my job more than anything. Well, almost anything.

I take the elevator to my floor, staring numbly at the ceiling, and go wearily through all the same thoughts once again. I can see their faces before me: Danny, twitchy and adorable; Sheldon, calm and smiling and so sweet; Lindsay, tough and fiercely hard-working, but light-hearted; Don, with his wide grin and trademark one-liners; Sid, creepy but lovable; Mac…

I unlock the door and go in and try to focus on my mail, so I don't throw away anything important. It doesn't do any good to think about Mac now; I've been through it all before. If anything, he's a reason to leave. _I can't go on like this the rest of my life, _I think with a twinge of desperation.

And then I stop short, my handful of junk mail frozen over the trash can.

I've made up my mind.

I consider calling him, and decide not to. It can wait until tomorrow. Best to sleep on it first. If he's free, I'll take him to dinner and we'll talk.

The doorbell startles me. I stare at the door for a moment, my heart beating faster, because I'm almost certain who's on the other side, and I haven't even figured out what to say…

_He looks terrible_, I think as he comes in. His face is drawn and haggard, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced. _Is it just because of me?_ I feel a perverse sort of pleasure at the thought that I could do that to him, and I'm instantly ashamed of myself.

We can't stare at each other all night. I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to it. "Stella…" He swallows, and goes on. "I know I can't ask you to stay, but…I just wanted you to know…I don't want you to leave."

My chest hurts. I have to force myself not to reach for him. "You can ask me anything you want, Mac. Doesn't mean I'll do it, but I'll think about it." His eyes are boring into mine, dark and intense. "But what I was going to say was, I was thinking—if I leave, it might be good for us." My heart is pounding in my ears, but I make myself go on. "What if…we didn't work together, but we could come home to each other at night?"

As I had expected, he just stares at me. I think he's trying to decide if I mean what he thinks I do, so to eliminate any misunderstanding, I lean in and kiss him lightly on the lips.

As I start to pull away, he catches my wrists suddenly in a hard grasp and holds me in place. He's so close that I can tell he's trembling a little, and I wonder if he can tell that I am too. I can feel his breath on my face. When he finally speaks, his voice is raspy. "Do you mean that?"

I'm not sure if my own voice will work. "Yes, Mac." It comes out as a whisper.

And then I stumble back against the wall and he pins my wrists against it as he kisses me hard, again and again. When I recover from my surprise, I can't even kiss him back because I can't breathe, and still he goes on, kissing me and kissing me. I can't move, I can't think, and I don't care, all I care about is that he doesn't stop, because I can't get enough of him. I'm blissfully happy, because at last I've shaken his maddening composure, and I finally know for certain that he wants me as much as I want him, when I was never really sure before…

I want to touch him, to feel him, and I pull my hands from his grasp and catch his shoulders, and his arms go around me, crushing me between him and the wall, his lips traveling all over my face. I realize that my fingers are digging into the tops of his arms and I'm probably hurting him, so I try to loosen my hold, but just then he kisses just behind my earlobe, and I actually whimper and my fingers tighten again convulsively.

His kisses move lower until he buries his face in the crook of my neck, breathing hard. "Sorry," he mumbles after a while.

I begin to laugh, turning my head to nuzzle the side of his face. "About time, I'd say."

His arms tighten again. "You know we have to wait until you actually leave."

"I know," I answer, laying kisses along his jaw line. He laughs too and straightens, pulling away gently. Our eyes meet again, only this time his are bright and his face is relaxed. My gaze wanders over his face, with its beautiful shape and marvelous chin—I've always loved his chin—and his cheeks with just a hint of stubble, and his ears…_I've got it bad,_ I realize.

I also realize that we never made it more than four feet inside the door. "Would you like to come in?" I suggest.

He laughs again. "Sure."

We sit on the couch, close but not touching, except for his hand in both of mine. "So you've made up your mind?" he asks.

"I think so."

He nods, looking down at our hands. "I'm glad. It's a great opportunity."

"I know. I just don't want to leave the lab."

He sighs. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you, Stella. Do you remember what I said that time? That I wouldn't do this job without you?"

_Of course I remember. _"And I said you would, you just wouldn't be as good. And I don't even think that, anymore. We've got the best team we've ever had."

"They're not as good as you."

"They haven't been doing it as long. We're getting old, Mac."

He grins. "I am, you're not."

"You're right, I'll _never_ be as old as you." I love it that I can make him laugh, really laugh, so that his eyes crinkle up. But then his face grows serious again.

"How long do you have?"

"A month. I'll tell them tomorrow, and give thirty days' notice."

He pulls his hand from mine so he can put his arm around me and pull me close, and sets his face against my hair. "I was so afraid I was going to lose you, that I wouldn't be able to see you every day…"

Tears well up in my eyes. I wrap my arm around his waist and bury my face in his shirt. "You'll never be rid of me now," I promise.

He holds me there, tightly, and I listen to his strong, steady heartbeat and think of all the nights alone when I had wanted to do this, when I had thought about calling him, or just showing up at his door, and always thought better of it. I wonder if he had nights like that too. I'll ask him, later.

Memories flood back to me—saying goodbye in his office before we both go out, but with other people. Getting so excited that I kissed him in the lab that time. Arguing with him about the horse. Seeing his face above me as I fight my way back to consciousness, with Frankie dead beside me on the floor. Sitting all night with him outside Don's hospital room, after he told me shyly that he was glad I stayed. And all the time loving him, aching for him.

It's late when I walk him to the door. He opens his arms. "Just once more," he says, and I willingly oblige him. Now we can be slow and gentle, taking our time.

"See you back here in a month?" I say.

He grins broadly. "It's a date." He brushes his fingertips lightly across my cheek and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

* * *

**Epilogue**

We all go out to dinner after shift on my last day. Sid has to leave first, still being on the clock, but the rest of us linger around the table, laughing and telling stories. I look around at their bright faces, one by one, missing them already. At last my gaze comes back to Mac beside me, and I find his eyes waiting. He raises his eyebrows with just the hint of a grin, and I feel myself blushing and suddenly try to pay attention to whatever Danny is talking about. Unfortunately, no one ever knows what Danny is talking about.

Lindsay sets down her glass and slides her chair back. "It's getting late, guys. We should get going." We all get up and I go around, saying goodbye to Don, Danny, and Sheldon, each of them pulling me into a bear hug. I'm going to miss them, so much.

When I come to Lindsay, her eyes are sparkling as they flicker briefly toward Mac and back to me. "Good luck," she whispers.

I laugh, and hug her. "Thank you," I whisper back.

"Goodnight, Mac," she says innocently, and herds the others out the door. Mac comes up behind me and I shiver as his hand rests on the small of my back.

"Ready to go?" he murmurs, close to my hair.

"Yeah." It's all I can get out.

He holds my hand in silence all through the cab ride and up to my floor, where we stop at the threshold as I get out the key. I look back up at him and he lays his hand along my face and kisses me, and then I draw him inside, and shut the door.


End file.
